The Tears of the Weather God

It’s the middle of October and outside, the leaves are beginning to look like Fall. The edges of the roads are strewn with fallen leaves: faded green and burnt orange, pale yellow and rusty brown. Today was the first time I noticed. But maybe that’s because today was the first time I walked to class.

I want to know why the weather god is crying. That’s why I walked to class. I held my umbrella up and pushed the dome of it against the wind so it wouldn’t flip inside-out. As though I were scared of the rain, I looked down at my feet as I walked, watching flecks of mud speckle the white tips of my converse and feeling the water seeping in through the black fabric. My socks soaked through.

To minimize the amount of water that was beginning to pile up in the plastic buckets of my sneakers, I made sure to step on the driest parts of the sidewalk. You could tell where the dips were in the concrete because when the rain came down, there’d be this reaction like the puddle was empathizing with the tears. Maybe that’s what happens with humans, too.

When the weather god cries, the earth reacts. When someone close to us cries, we react, too. I guess it just makes you think about how everything is all inter-related. What we feel affects those around us, what those around us feel affects us. And when you think about it, maybe the analogy goes even further. Just as we put umbrellas up to shield ourselves from the tears of the weather god, perhaps sometimes, we have to put umbrellas up to shield ourselves from the tears of those around us. Not in the sense that we shut them out, but in the sense that we empathize with caution, we support without being crushed, we lend a shoulder but remind ourselves that it is still our shoulder.

I hope that I know how to do this. I hope that I know when to feel the rain on my skin and when to hold up an umbrella. And I hope that these tears stop falling.

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~ by thechanster on 6:20 pm, Wednesday, October 14, 2009.

One Response to “The Tears of the Weather God”

  1. Beautiful post, beautiful last lines–so mature, so heartbreaking, so poetic. And such a mature message. I have confidence in you, Charlotte. And if your strength ever lags, I’ll lend you some of mine.

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